


Of Outlaws and Kings

by cheshireArcher



Category: Henry IV Part 1 - Shakespeare, King John - Shakespeare, Robin Hood (Traditional)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Robin Hood, Canon Divergence - Shrewsbury, Everybody Lives, Friendship, Gen, Outlaws, Team as Family, phony kings of England, references to the events of King John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireArcher/pseuds/cheshireArcher
Summary: The Kingdom of England has many legends- of kings, of knights, of outlaws. This is the story of when two of these legends became one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I need to stop starting multichapter fics because honestly I have far too many already. Anyway, here we go.

“Come on, Percy! Live, dammit!” Hotspur felt someone shaking him, and then a slap landing on his face. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the figure in front of him. He was dead, he was sure, and he was in whatever state that comes before you’re sent to either Heaven, Purgatory, or Hell. And for some reason the spirit greeting him looked a hell of a lot like Archie Douglas. Although this vision was demanding he live, which was an unlikely request if you were already dead.

He faded into darkness again, the voice above him sounding far away and the vision blurring into nothing. Hotspur let it happen, feeling himself being lifted from the earth. He felt a dull throbbing in his side. And in his head. Everything hurt. 

\-----

Hotspur slowly regained sight and could identify the figure- definitely Archie, his brother-in-arms and best friend. He had no idea where they were, however, and his head swam. He hurt, something felt wrong with his side- probably a good, impressive flesh wound. He was lying on a camp bed in a tent, with Archie standing over him. “The hell…?”

“You were out for a day,” Archie said. “We thought you might not make it.”

“W-where are w-we?” Hotspur rubbed his forehead. 

“Shrewsbury,” Archie said. “We’re, ah, in the King’s camp.”

“W-what?” Hotspur was fully awake now. 

“Bolingbroke won two days ago. You and I were taken prisoner by him.” Archie didn’t like admitting that, especially to Hotspur, and he instantly felt that he had spoken too soon.

“I wish I were dead,” Hotspur mumbled miserably. He lay back down on the bed. Beside him on another bed was a young soldier, his face bandaged and his surcoat with the Lancaster coat of arms torn and stained with blood and dirt. He looked familiar but Hotspur couldn’t place him.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Archie said. “I’m sure Kate will be mildly pleased with it too.”

“W-we lost?”

“Ah, well, yes. We lost but we’re still alive and-“

“But w-we’re Bolingbroke’s captives…”

“Cheer up,” Archie said. “We’ve both done this before.” It was hard to imagine but just a year ago Hotspur and Archie hadn’t been friends at all, they’d been enemies who respected each other but nevertheless were locked in combat for the border. After the Battle of Holmidon Hill, Hotspur had held Archie prisoner, and because the King had refused to ransom Hotspur’s brother-in-law, Edmund Mortimer, he had in kind refused to turn his Scottish prisoners over to the King. In that time, Hotspur and Archie had become good friends and the Scot was now practically a member of the Percy family.

“Yes, but never under the King,” Hotspur said. “Or the ingrate who thinks he’s king.”

“You rest,” Archie said. “You need it.”

“W-what happened to me?” Hotspur asked.

“You were hit with an arrow and you fell off your horse,” Archie explained. “We thought you were dead at first.”

“So, w-what does Bolingbroke w-want from us?”

“I don’t know. He had offered us terms of surrender before the battle, according to some of his men. I haven’t talked to him myself so I don’t know if that’s right or no.”

“Surrender?” Hotspur spat the word out like it tasted bad. “W-we w-were never told of that. Did his messenger not reach us?”

Archie blanched. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Hotspur the next part, what had happened during the day he was unconscious. “The person he told was your uncle, Worcester. He didn’t deliver it to you, I know not why.” 

“Ah, my uncle! W-where is he?” 

Archie swallowed. This conversation just kept getting better. “Your uncle is dead.”


End file.
